AdamLawrence Á La Princess Bride
by SALJStella
Summary: An AU Adam/OC-fic. So we're in the Princess Bride universe, but under different circumstances. What if Wesley had company in the dungeon? And what if that someone was someone that Cary Elwes had been locked up with before?
1. First Impressions Can Be Tough

**A/N: Okay, prepare for a long Author's Note. This may seem like a story that belong in the Princess Bride-section, but believe me, it's supposed to be here. It **_**is **_**a Saw-fic, and it's AU, and it's AdamLawrence, because they're so cute together. Anyway, as some of you might know, the actor who played Lawrence in Saw, Cary Elwes, also was the lead of a little movie called Princess Bride. And he's even cuter in that movie than he is in Saw, so I saw no reason for him not to hook up with Adam in that movie, too! **

**Disclaimer: I owe neither Saw nor Princess Bride, and I see no point rubbing it in… **

**Dedication: This story is dedicated to Nicole, because she's the one who showed me Princess Bride to begin with. XD **

**1: ****First Impressions Can Be Tough**

Wesley grunted when his body hit the stone floor. The pain pierced him, it felt like every bone in his body was on fire.

He heard another limp body fall down next to him. And the next, depressing sound that was heard was the loud CLICK from the door.

Locked. He was lost.

"Are you okay?" His cellmate's hoarse voice said from somewhere on his right.

Wesley shook his head roughly, even though he knew you couldn't tell through the darkness. He used his hands to heave himself up from the filthy, grimy floor. From what he could feel, and of course, from his experiences from years of being a stable boy, he could tell that what covered the floor was rotting hay. One time, it had probably been there to give the prisoners at least _some _comfort, but now, it just depressed him.

_Buttercup… _

He had to save her. His heart ached with worrying, with unhappy love that he suddenly wished would go away. Never before, not even when she didn't know about it, had he never regretted that he loved Buttercup.

He was ashamed of this new feeling. But then again, he knew it would go away. And what Buttercup didn't know couldn't hurt her.

"I'm as little okay as you possible can be," he said and crossed his legs beneath him.

"I can't say I don't understand you," the other man responded, and Wesley decided that no matter where this man came from, it wasn't here. He sounded American, and pretty young.

There was a long silence between them after that. Or, maybe it wasn't that long, but that's how it felt. Wesley couldn't figure out a proper respond to the man's statement, and he didn't bother thinking too hard. He had to think of Buttercup, think of a way to save her…

"I'm Adam," the voice said after what seemed like an eternity, and Wesley jumped.

He'd almost forgotten there was someone else with in the darkness with him.

Adam.

Well, he had to talk to someone, right?

So Wesley turned his head to him. The hopelessness had already washed over him, and he felt empty. Tired and worn. He wasn't up for a conversation. And not really for thinking either.

"Wesley," he muttered.

Adam might have nodded, Wesley couldn't really figure out. It sounded like a nod, but… It was so damn dark!

"Wesley," Adam repeated.

He seemed to taste the name.

"Yes," he replied, unsure of what else to say.

"Well, Wesley," Adam said, and he sounded either tired or optimistic. "Seems like we're going to be here for a while."

There it was. The pronouncing. 'Gonna' instead of 'going to'. He was definitely American.

"I'm not," came Wesley's clipped answer. "I'm going to get out of here."

He was very particular with pronouncing it 'go-ing-to'. For some reason, it was very important to him not to sound like Adam.

"Oh yeah?" Adam scoffed, his accent more obvious than ever. "And how's that supposed to happen, Wesley?"

"I don't know," Wesley said truthfully. "But I will, I know that much."

He heard Adam sighing softly as he rolled over to his back. Wesley couldn't understand how he voluntarily lied on a floor like this. Okay, he'd slept most of his nights in haystacks, or straight on the hard wood, but… A floor as dirty as this one…

"Then I guess I'll be stuck here, gnawing away at straws after you go away," Adam said, and Wesley's eyes widened as he actually heard the milling sound of jaws working at a straw of hay.

"Are you going to put something we found in this room in your _mouth?" _He yelped out, and Adam chuckled softly.

"Not much else to do, is there?" He mumbled bitterly and spat out the straw he'd been chewing on. "Ugh. Tastes like crap."

Wesley nodded sharply, not really paying attention.

"If you say so. Now, will you help me found a way out of here?"

Even though he couldn't see it, and even though he had no idea how Adam looked, he somehow knew he rolled his eyes.

"If you find out a way to break that lock, let me know. I'm going to remain on the floor until someone, either the guards or you, gets me out of here."

Wesley gritted his teeth. He didn't know why, but every time he heard Adam say 'gonna', he felt like breaking his jaw just to get away from it.

"Would you mind stop saying that?"

"What?"

"That… 'Gonna'"

"Well, I'm awfully sorry, Mr. 'Going to'," Adam bit back, "but I'm American and proud of it."

Wesley grunted for an answer and turned his head to get a better overlook of the room, but for that, he could use a candle or something. He could twist and turn as much as he wished, but he saw nothing. He didn't see the door, he didn't see the walls, he didn't see Adam, he just heard the slow breathing next to him. And a voice in the back of his head knew that there was no way out, but he ignored it. And he ignored Adam, too. He hadn't even seen his face, but he was already bothered by his casualness, his laziness, his… Damn _accent. _

Wesley didn't know how much time he spend searching through every inch of the dungeon with his hands and as much of his eyes that he could bring himself to. But no matter how long it was, it was too long. Especially since he did it to the sound of Adam behind him. The slow breathing, his fingers that occasionally tapped against the stone floor, his soft humming. Wesley wanted to beat him up, or kill him, or… Whatever. But in the same time, he knew that Adam was the only sane, human creature he was going to meet in quite a while.

"Any luck?" Adam said dizzily and sadistically after a while when Wesley let himself drop down next to him with a heavy sigh. "Sorry I didn't pay more attention, I nodded off there for a while."

"Shut up," Wesley muttered, and drew his fingers along his moustache.

Adam chuckled.

"Why are you down here, anyway?" He then continued, not bothered at all by Wesley's quipping. "Such a little goodie-goodie as you, why would any guards want to throw you down here?"

Wesley sighed again, and allowed himself to lie down next to Adam and hate himself for surrendering. The hay felt slimy and itchy at the same time against his bare torso, but he didn't have the strength left to do something about it. He was starting to think that he still wasn't in control, for the first time in his life.

"I was in love," he said plainly.

There was no better way to put it. That was why they arrested him, wasn't it?

"Hm," Adam said, and Wesley heard a sound that could be arms folding under a head. "Well, let's just hope for the best, I guess."

Wesley shrugged.

"Not much else to do, if you ask me. Why are you down here?"

Adam sighed irritably. Wesley crooked a brow. Adam couldn't be ashamed, could he? After all, it was thing like this they bragged about in prison cells, as far as he knew.

"I'll tell you what: If we're down here for more than six hours, you'll definitely find out," Adam answered.

"Is that so?" Wesley said, almost forgetting the fact that he'd decided that he didn't like his cellmate. "So it will be like a bet?"

"If you want it to be," Adam said, half-interested. "If I'm not totally off, the guard outside the door is switched every hour. So, if we don't get out of here within six guard-swaps, you'll never find out."

Wesley nodded. He could might as well play this little game. He'd almost accepted that he couldn't do much to get out of here, so… Well, at least he kept track of time by doing this.

"It's not the first time, either, is it?" He said and turned his head to the place where Adam's voice came from, most of the time.

A head seemed to be shaken next to him.

"How many times have you been here, then?" Wesley asked, and by now, he didn't think of the first impression he'd gotten of Adam. He was lazy and arrogant, yes, but it seemed to be in an almost charming way.

Adam sighed, and the sigh seemed to come from the very bottom of his soul.

"Too many…" He mumbled under his breath.

**I can't say I'm expecting many reviews… But if you've made it this far, you might as well drop me a line, right? (Puppy eyes) **


	2. In The Dark

**A/N: Yikes… Jesus Christ, what a long update. Hope you don't hate me. I'm sorry, but it appears that I have less and less time these days. But fanfiction comes first, after all, so enjoy!**

**2: In The Dark**

Adam's cackling echoed between the walls of their prison as he writhed on the floor in laughter. Even Wesley managed to smile wearily.

"It wasn't that funny," he said and turned against the place from where Adam's lingering giggling seemed to come.

Adam didn't look like he'd heard him.

"My dear Wesley," he said when he'd calmed himself down a little bit. "How little you know about the world."

"You're the one to talk," Wesley said, still smiling. "I haven't even seen you, but the fact that you can laugh that much at my fair, innocent lady is a sure sign that you're younger than me."

"'Have something to defend,'" Adam repeated, and he sounded so amused that Wesley was somewhat worried that he would fall into a new laughing pit. "You wanted something to defend so badly that you jumped into prison for her? That must've been one hell of a girl."

Wesley furrowed his brows.

"A girl from hell?"

"That means that she must've been a _good _girl," Adam said teasingly. "Mr. _Going To."_

"Gonna," Wesley bit back.

Fortunately, they hade started to get along good enough for him to almost make it sound loving.

Judging from the guard-swaps, they'd been down there for about five hours, and their liking for one another came and went like the tide. In the beginning, they'd almost hated each other, and every time Adam said the word 'Gonna', Wesley, who wasn't exactly famous for his awful temper, wanted to stand up and tear his head off, but they had both gotten past it. After the betting, they had both acted like grumpy little boys and confused to speak to each other, but after a while, Adam had managed to swallow his pride – or maybe he'd just gotten very bored – and asked Wesley what he meant when he said that he'd gotten into prison because he was in love. Wesley had, mostly because he, too, was tired of staring at a ceiling he couldn't see anyway, told him about Buttercup, about Humperdinck, about pretty much everything that had happened since he went away. It felt like such a terribly long time ago…

Anyway, Adam had, by the end of the story, asked why Buttercup couldn't set herself free, without Wesley having to run after her. Wesley had explained that that was the very thing that was amazing about Buttercup: She wasn't made for fighting herself, so he had to protect her. When Adam had scoffed somewhere in the darkness, Wesley had said that he though that was why men fell in love with women, because they wanted someone to defend. That's when Adam had burst into laughter.

"I don't really trust your theory," Adam said, as if that hadn't been obvious by his insane laughing. "If men just wanted something to stick up for, they could've just bought a very expensive watch."

"Well, of course they could," Wesley admitted, "but no expensive watch in the world is as precious as a pure, aidless young woman. That's why…"

Adam cut him off with a new laughter.

"You're an idiot!" He said after a while, and Wesley felt a fist hit his arm. "You're the official evidence that Americans and Englishmen are just as useless!"

"Don't even try to make us level with you," Wesley said teasingly. "Gonna."

"Going to."

Adam giggled.

"Why did you even leave America?" Wesley asked after a few more seconds of silence.

Adam muttered something under his breath.

"I got… Tired of it."

"But you still complain about Englishmen as much as possible?"

Adam chuckled.

"Yeah, why not? You're just as close-minded here as they are in America, so I don't see any reason why I shouldn't whine a little about you, too."

"What do you mean by close-minded?"

"What do you think I mean about close-minded?" Adam asked and seemed to throw his arm out. It was hard to tell in the dark. "You got thrown down here just because you were chasing after your damn Buttercup, and I…"

He stopped talking abruptly, but started again after just a few seconds, and what he said then seemed to be completely independent from the unfinished sentence he'd started before.

"I was sick of going to jail in America," he mumbled. "I hoped that… Here…"

He finished the sentence with a sigh.

Wesley's curiosity about what Adam was guilty of got bigger by the second. This wasn't the first, and probably not the last time, either, that Adam had been provokingly close to announce why he'd been arrested, but he always stopped in the last minute.

_Ah, well, _Wesley thought and heard the guard switch position outside the door. _The guards have been switched five times, and the fifth time was… What, half an hour ago? I'll find out in not too long… And Buttercup gets by, doesn't she?_

A tiny voice in his head said that she didn't, that she'd had someone else to do everything for her for all her life, but Wesley didn't listen to it. He had Adam next to him, and they got along better and better. He would survive. And so would Buttercup.

"Adam," he said suddenly.

Adam mumbled something to signal his attention.

"Can't you tell me why you got arrested?"

Adam laughed.

"Anxious, are we, Wesley?"

"Come on. You're always one word away from it, but you never say it. Plus, six hours are up in half an hour, and I think we'd need more time than that to get out of here. So just say it."

Adam scoffed.

"You just want to get out to your Buttercup."

With those words, he lifted his hand and slapped Wesley in his forehead, and he did it with surprisingly good aiming for someone who could barely see.

It was probably meant as a playful hit, but it didn't feel that way. A headache had grinded in Wesley's head ever since they got down here, and it was sometimes strong, sometimes weak, but it was there all the time. And when Adam's palm hit his forehead, it exploded, like a firework of tiny pins that bored into Wesley's brain, and he grunted and pressed his knuckles to his temples.

Adam's head seemed to be turned against him.

"What?"

"Headache," Wesley managed to blurt out.

There was no better way to put it.

Headache.

"Shit," Adam said, startled. "Sorry, Wesley, I forgot…"

"It's okay," Wesley said and squeezed his eyes shut. "God…"

Adam pulled him up to his knees. Wesley heard how he walked closer to him on his own knees, and he soon felt the closure of another human being, the warmth of someone else's skin, and it almost made him cry.

He hadn't felt like that in a long time.

Not since Buttercup…

"I'm sorry," Adam repeated. "I should know what a bitch of a headache those things give you… Hell, it's not like it's my first time…"

He felt Adam's fingers lightly touch his temples, right on the aching spot where the electricity had flowed through. In an odd way, it felt a comfortable with those slender fingertips against a soar spot. Like a cool, wet piece of cloth.

And then, in a weird impulse, Adam let his lips brush over the place were his fingers just had been. He heard Wesley wince at the new contact, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he immediately turned to Adam, who's eyes he could see glisten, even through the darkness.

_The irony, _Wesley thought, even though his mind was clouded by the desire and the uncomfortable knowledge that he had no idea what the hell he was doing. _I wanted to know what his crime was… And now I do. _

He loved Buttercup. He really did. But... During these six hours, Adam had almost became his friend.

And the thought from before popped up in his head. The thought he used to defend himself, even though what he did right now was unforgivable.

_What Buttercup didn't know couldn't hurt her, could it?_

Wesley tried to convince himself of that as he put both hands on Adam's waist - the guards had apparently took his shirt off, too - and let his lips crash onto his, pleased with the muffled moan he managed to draw from him.

Everything went so fast. And neither one of them was thinking, which made it seem even faster.

This was strange. They were in a dungeon, they hadn't seen each other, and they were both men, most importantly, but when Wesley ran his tongue over Adam's bottom lip, coaxing him to open his mouth, he thought that nothing had ever felt more right in his life. Not even a few seconds later, as he, in this sudden spring of passion, forced Adam down on the cold, hard floor and remained on top of him, and drank in the feeling of naked skin against his own, his tongue plundering Adam's motuh.

But that feeling was soon washed away by the feeling of panic as a gate of light flew mercilessly down on him and Adam, and he heard a gasp that he could separate from a thousand others.

Buttercup.

**Dum dum dum… What shall happen now? Review… And I just might tell you! (Evil cackle) **


	3. Too Tired Not To Be With You

**A/N: ****ARGH! I'm so sorry for the long update, I really am! I've been crazy busy, but I managed to get this thing out in the open, and I hope you like it! It's not as humorous as the past ones… **

**3: Too Tired Not To Be With You**

In the future, Wesley would never remember how he got to his feet. How he got out of the dungeon.

He has a vague memory of losing the sense of his hands. Of that his blood seemed to freeze in his veins, that the circulation somehow had stopped and kept his blood from reaching his head, and that it now throbbed in anxiety, because a head needs blood, he would die otherwise, he would die.

He doesn't remember Buttercup's face. He doesn't even remember looking at Adam, which he maybe should've done, since as far as he knew, that might be the only opportunity he got to see someone that he, which he still hadn't gotten quite yet, had kissed, someone that he easily could've gone further with if they hadn't gotten interrupted.

The only thing he remembers is stumbling over a tree trunk after that he somehow got himself up the stairs, and to helplessly reach his hand out after the rejecting back of a young woman that was only a few feet away, but that he felt as if he'd never be able to touch again.

"Buttercup!"

"Leave me alone!" Came her clipped answer.

She tried to make it sound like a scowl, but her voice was thick, trembled from suppressed sobs. Wesley inhaled deeply and put all of his power into his legs to be able to run up to her. And when he actually walked beside her, it still felt like she was a mile away.

"Buttercup, I…"

"Wesley, go away," Buttercup hissed, and she didn't even look a him in fear that he'd see that her eyes were glazed with tears. "I loved you, you know that? I loved you, I walked around here waiting for you, and this is how you thank me?"

"Buttercup, I didn't plan in. It just happened, and he's my friend…"

"Friend?"

She said the word like an awful cursing.

"Your _friend? _Do you do that with all your friends, Wesley? Was that what you were doing all those years when I was waiting for you, without even knowing that you were a pirate? Is that what sailors do when they're bored?"

"No," Wesley said patiently, "when sailors are bored, they play cards. This was just… An impulse."

"Impulse?"

Wesley silently wondered why she'd started to repeat the last word in every sentence he said.

"That wasn't an _impulse," _Buttercup said and wrapped her arms around herself, as if she tried to defend herself from something unknown. "That was _planned. _It was a _setup. _You _wanted _me to catch you!"

"Why would I want that?"

"I don't know!" Buttercup said, annoyed, and started to pant from walking so fast and yelling at the same time. "But it's obvious, isn't it? You knew that I'd steal the key to the dungeon, you _had _to know that, and you knew that I didn't expect to see _that."_

"Buttercup," Wesley said firmly, grabbed her elbow to stop her and tried to catch her damp eyes. "I'm sorry about what happened, I really am, and if I could take it back, I would, but I can't."

Buttercup sniffled, and she seemed to do a feeble attempt to yank her arm out of his grasp, but just like Wesley, she seemed to be too tired, to worn to do something really trying.

Because that really was how it felt. The headache that Adam brought down upon him still lured in the back of Wesley's head, ready to hop up and attack his defenseless brain any second, his muscles felt like liquid that was slowly dripping off his bones, and more than anything, he was tired. He was so damn tired.

If he'd only been a little more alert, Wesley would go down to his knees and beg, he'd make Buttercup realize that he would do anything, _anything _for her, but he didn't have the energy.

He didn't have the energy.

So he just did the clichés. It's not you, it's me. I'm not ready for a commitment.

"Buttercup," Wesley said in a tone that he could only pray was pleading. "I'll do anything in the world if you give me a second chance."

Buttercup lowered her eyes. Her mouth was slowly opened, her lips looked like two rose petals, her cheeks were flushed from the running and the work she'd put on holding back the tears, and for a while, Wesley thought that she would smile and turn back into her usual, sugar sweet self, but the words that came out of her mouth were heavy and dramatic, low and yet clear, like they were carved into stone.

"Wesley," she said. "Let go of my arm."

But Wesley didn't let go of her arm, even thought he knew there was no point in keeping her there. He had lost Buttercup. He could keep his hand on her arm, he could hold her with _both _of his hands, he could _sit _on top of her, and it would all have been pointless.

Nothing that he sad, nothing that he did would bring Buttercup back to him.

But he would never let go of her arm.

"Buttercup…"

"No," Buttercup said, closed her eyes so that two lonely, heavy tears fell down her cheeks. "For God's sake, Wesley, don't you realize what you've done?"

Wesley opened his mouth to respond, but Buttercup did it for him, and that was probably just as well, because she knew it better that him.

"Adultery," Buttercup said. "Homosexuality. You can end up in prison."

Wesley nodded. It was the truth. Adam had said it himself: He'd gotten in jail for things like this all the time in America. And that still wasn't the land of opportunities, it was the land of criminality.

"And I… I'm going to marry Humperdinck," Buttercup continued. "And you should flee. Never return."

Wesley nodded again. Words had deserted him, feelings had deserted him, the turn of events during these past ten minutes had been like a heavy blow against his head, and he still hadn't gotten what happened. His brain was still in the dungeon. With Adam.

"So why don't you let go of my arm," Buttercup finished up.

And Wesley did as she said.

He knew that he threw away every chance he had to regain Buttercup as he felt the thin fabric slip between his fingers, but he didn't even manage to care. He wished that he could rewind time, that he could lay on the hay-covered floor in the dungeon with Adam's laughing voice next to him, when everything was easy even though everything also was so complicated it made him want to cry.

Once again, he watched Buttercup's back move further and further away from him. Only this time, he didn't run after it. He didn't have the energy to care. He didn't have the energy to anything.

And just as that thought hit him, a young man appeared by his side. He was short and senselessly thin, his worn clothes were baggy around his body. His silky, black hair was in a heap on his head, and it would fill any sensible person with the urge to run their hand through it, feel the soft bangs caress their palm and see how they bounced back to their original position.

"There you are," the man said shoved a bundle of cloth into Wesley's chest. "Here, I managed to steal our shirts. Put it on already, I can tell from own experiences that it's a lot more fun to run away from angry guards without a bare torso."

There it was. The sarcastic tone, the light voice, the American accent that shone through every word he said.

"Adam?"

"That's my name," Adam said and beckoned to the shirt. "Now, take the damn thing, would you?"

And Wesley still had no idea what was going on, so he took the shirt out of Adam's hand and pulled it over his head, and then he looked at Adam to drink in the vision of a man that had drawn feelings out of him that he didn't know he had. And that was before he even saw his face.

"So," Adam said insecurely and threw his arm out to the giant, menacing forest in front of them. "I'm not really used to this place. Where do we run?"

**Not the greatest thing I've ever written, perhaps, but I haven't updated in forever, so… Well, review either way! **


	4. Back Upon The Horse

A/N: Hehe… Well, the three readers I do have: Thanks a lot for your reviews

**A/N: Hehe… Well, the three readers I do have: Thanks a lot for your reviews! I'm not sure about the genre to this thing anymore… I know it's Romance, but is the second one Humor or Drama? I guess that's up to our cute little Adam…**

**4: Back Upon The Horse **

"Okay, here's a riddle: You know what keeps walking but never gets anywhere?"

"Shut up."

"I'm just being honest," Adam said and threw his arm out. "I'm completely relying on you, and you seem to have as much clue about where we're going as I have. And that's not much. In my head, this is the way to Bronx."

"Think whatever you want," Wesley said tiredly. "I know where we're going. You can trust me or sit down on the ground and sulk."

"I like sulking."

"Of course you like to something if you don't know anything else."

Adam didn't answer to this.

He did have a point, though. They'd been walking for almost two hours, and Wesley just had a vague idea about where they were heading, but he still knew he had bigger knowledge on the subject than Adam. But he also knew that if he was wrong in his assumes, Adam would never let him hear the end of it.

"But seriously," Adam said and rushed his steps a little to keep up with Wesley's speed, "you know where we're going? Because you can literally see the confusion spreading across your face. If I'd been poetic, I'd been babbling on about a cloud of worrying over your beautiful features, but now I'm not, so I'm settling on asking you where the hell we're heading, and why we're heading there, and in what way that would defend us against the scary guards."

"Are they still after us?" Wesley asked and looked over his shoulder.

"No," Adam said, "but don't worry. If they get here, I'll defend you with a risen sword. Or whatever. I'm gonna need something, you won't be able to do much on your own. English people are sissies."

"Or I can just give them you," Wesley hissed.

Adam raised his hands with a small smile. Wesley didn't see the fun in the situation.

It was true that he wanted to be with Adam, just like he'd thought before Adam handed over his shirt. Adam was the only thing that felt sensible right now, at this time when he had, in about twenty minutes, went from being an honorable young man that had just went to prison because he fought for his fiancé into a criminal.

Into someone that fled from a punishment he actually deserved. Into someone that wasn't just guilty of adultery, but also adultery with a man.

And the only one he had to talk to was a sarcastic, annoying American who's only enjoyments in life seemed to be to either complaining about either Englishmen or Wesley's accent.

His brain still did its best to catch up with these events. He was yet to understand that Buttercup, the purpose of his life that he'd sailed across the seven seas for, became a pirate for, had left him, and that he and Adam probably wouldn't have either energy or inclination to be apart from each other even if they tried, despite the fact that they annoyed each other more than Wesley thought possible. It was surreal.

Everything was surreal.

But he was still pretty sure about where they were going.

They should be…

Wesley turned around and looked back. Just trees, merciless forest, itching spruces. He didn't want to sleep out here, but right now, something else seemed to be impossible. Since his brain still was so far back in the events, he wasn't really tired, but he felt it coming. Both the tiredness and everything else.

The pain from that bloody torture device that would make it feel like every bone in his body was on fire. Again.

The tiredness that would follow. The tiredness from walking, and at some points, running, for something that seemed like an eternity.

The sorrow.

The sorrow from watching Buttercup walking away.

The sorrow from knowing that she'd never come back.

"Oh, no," Adam moaned and rolled his eyes. "I know that look. _Please, _Wesley, tell me we're not lost."

"Um…" Wesley said doubtfully.

Damn.

Adam announced something that almost sounded like a growl and punched Wesley on the arm.

"Shit!" He cursed loudly and hit him again. "I should've left without you! And let you run around in your fucking… _England_ without a shirt!"

"Adam, shut up," Wesley said again and spun around. "I was so sure…"

"You're not sure of anything!" Adam hissed and kept hitting Wesley's arm with his palms in an extremely feminine way that Wesley didn't have the energy to point out. "The only thing you're sure of is your damn stupid Jack the Ripper-theories about girls! Your own fucking forest, though…"

"And what are _you _sure of?" Wesley bit back and raised his arm to shield himself from Adam's punches. "Cursing words? Prisons? American ways to punish homosexuality?"

"No!" Adam said angrily and finished off his punishment with a final hit against Wesley's shoulder. "Or, yeah, that, too, but…"

"Wesley?"

Wesley and Adam quieted down immediately when a new voice rang through the trees.

Wesley had to smile for the first time since they got out of the dungeon. Smile out of pure relief, since it was a voice he knew, not the yelling voice of a guard that chased after them until Adam pulled him in behind a tree and they stood that way, nose to nose, face to face, body to body, and with their breaths mixing, until it had blown over.

And even then, they didn't stop standing like that. Not at once.

But this voice was familiar. And the heavy Italian accent alone was as familiar as Adam's American one by now.

"Inigo!" Wesley said as loudly as he dared and waved his arm, even though he still didn't see anyone. "We're over here!"

"Thank God!" The voice said with a sigh before its bearer stepped out from behind a big tree.

Igino Montoya had probably never been more wanted. Wesley's smile got wider, he even laughed in all his misery as he saw his friend, his thin moustache, his shiny, black hair, and the mighty sword at his belt, followed by Fezzik, and Wesley laughed again as he felt Adam subconsciously gripping to his arm and yelp in surprise as he saw the enormous man.

"It's okay, Adam," he said, smiling and loosened Adam's fingers that were desperately clutching his sleeve. "They're my friends."

"Your friends are creepy," Adam said without taking his widened eyes off Fezzik.

Igino looked at Adam, amusement smoldering in his black eyes.

"And who are you?"

"This is Adam," Wesley said and beckoned against Adam. "My cellmate. We've fled away together."

Igino nodded and reached out his hand, but Adam barely seemed to notice it. He just stared at the man in front of him, cringing.

"Man, what the hell is up with your accent?" He asked in an almost disgusted voice.

Wesley sighed and rolled his eyes. _Of course _Adam would be like this.

"He's Italian, Adam," he said angrily.

Adam's grimace cracked in a smile.

"No shit. So you're not one of those English pansies? In that case, there's a chance I'm only gonna make fun of the way you talk."

Wesley felt his skin crawl as heard Adam say "gonna", and Inigo nodded slowly and opened his mouth, obviously searching for something to say that would at least make him sound politer than Adam.

"And if I'd been English…" He said wonderingly.

"The you would've been as ridiculous as Wesley," Adam said with a grin. "Now you're just… A little less ridiculous."

Inigo shot him a dark glance.

"You're not that much better yourself," he said in a dull voice. "You're saying… 'Gonna'."

"Thank you," Wesley said, annoyed and raked his hand through his hair. "Now, when this is settled, why don't we…"

"I refuse to be judged by someone who pronounces it 'goona'," Adam hissed, and the tried to sound quippy, but Wesley saw relief spread across his face as he realized that he now had a new accent to make fun of. "That sounds funny, by the way. Goona. Goona."

He tasted the word and smiled widely.

"It sounds like the name of a cheese."

"Adam, shut up," Wesley interrupted. "Inigo, do you know someplace we can run?"

"Yes," Inigo said and pointed into the seemingly empty forest. "We found a cave a few miles away…"

"…But do we have to take him with us?" Fezzik said suddenly, and Adam jumped again, since his fear of the giant, that had been toned down a little since he'd been quiet for so long, now seemed to rise back to the surface. "He'll make fun of my accent, too, won't he?"

"Definitely," Wesley said honestly. "That's his joy in life. And I know he's irritating, but he has to come with us."

"Why?" Fezzik asked and looked at Adam, his eyes dark with disliking, a look that Adam shot right back at him. "Why are you so fond of him?"

Wesley opened his mouth and tried to look like he wasn't panicking.

God. How could he be so stupid that he didn't even think of an explanation to why Adam was with him? Of course they'd ask him why he was doing a jailbreak with a twenty year-old American that drove him crazy, of course they'd see his hair that was ruffled by all the times Adam had drawn his hand through it…

"Well…" He started stupidly before Adam cut him off.

"We hooked up," he said plainly and shrugged.

He didn't seem to get the reaction he was hoping for. Igino just furrowed his brows in confusion.

"What did you say?"

"Made out," Adam said and rolled his eyes.

The wrinkle between Igino's eyes got deeper, and Adam sighed theatrically.

"Kissed!" He scowled. "With the lips! People do that sometimes! You get it now, you damn… Goonas?"

If Wesley had been given a choice, id he'd gotten to decide what part of that awful day he'd forget, it wouldn't have been Buttercup's gasp when she entered the dungeon, or even the electricity that flowed through his temples and out through his body.

What he'd like to forget more than anything would definitely be Igino and Fezzik's faces after the moment when Adam, wonderfully, horribly shameless Adam, had explained what happened in the dungeon in a way that they actually understood. Because they were a lot like Buttercup's when she'd found out about the same thing: Wide eyes, slightly gaping mouths, a vein attempt to wear an understanding expression that didn't succeed, because how could they ever understand?

How could they ever understand that Adam's sarcasms, his mockings, his in general senselessly annoying personality in some way was more attracting than Buttercup was when she was pressed up against him, when he breathed in her scent and tasted her soft lips, because of just that: Adam was completely different, he was rough, fierce, almost violent with his tongue deep inside of Wesley's mouth and his hard grip on his hips.

"Um…" Igino said, and by this, broke the uncomfortable silence. "Alright…"

"I… I don't know how…" Wesley began in a stuttering attempt to defend himself before Adam cut him off again.

"Okay, okay, okay," he snapped, annoyed. "Wesley, hold that thought, would you? I really wanna hear you coming out of the closet, hell, we all do. But I'm almost even more curious about that hiding place young Mr. Goona were talking about, so maybe you can do your confession there. Sounds good?"

Wesley furrowed his brows.

"Coming out of the closet? I'm standing right here!"

Adam sent him a weary look.

"I meant…" He began before he bowed his head, giving up. "Oh, never mind. Igino, show the way before I start calling you 'Goona' again."

Igino nodded, probably still annoyed, but Adam should still have been used to that people were bothered by him by now. So he didn't care about the black glance he got from his leader, just followed him with Wesley by his side, and Wesley slowly got used to walking next to him, talking to him, and to the fact that their hands were grazing over each other way too often.

**Another chapter written on the edge of unconsciousness… Anyway, my three darling reviewers, make me happy! **


	5. The Sound Of Settling

**A/N: ARGH! I'm so sorry for the long update, but the thing is… I have so many fics with Adam/Lawrence goodness in progress, I can't update any of them as often as I'd like to… Anyway, my darlings, read on…**

**5: The Sound Of Settling**

Adam moaned when his light little body hit the stone floor. Wesley smiled weakly when he saw Adam's slightly furrowed brows, his fluttering eyelids, his big yawn.

"Couldn't you have told us this cave was half a damn day away?" He muttered and finally closed his eyes, like he didn't have the energy to pretend he wasn't tired anymore.

"You should be happy we brought you here," Inigo hissed and sat down with his back against the cave wall.

Wesley felt a bigger reluctance than he used to do when it came to agree with him.

His liking for Adam had only increased during their walking. And sure, it had lasted for a long time, and Adam had brought his mind to a tired, cranky little child after a while, but still.

They'd been talking. For a long time. Inigo and Fezzik had been a couple of feet ahead of them, whispering with their heads together, and Wesley knew they tried to gain some sort of hold on the situation without actually talking to him or Adam, but he hadn't managed to confront them. He still hoped to talk to them when Adam had fallen asleep. Maybe reach some sort of reconciliation.

He and Adam had walked a bit behind the other two. And they'd talked about everything and nothing, Adam had seemed a little too tired and shaken up to drop that many sarcastic comments. And just like the last time when he got to be alone with Adam, it seemed like Wesley got the ability to smudge the edges of the bitter reality. Like it could go away for a moment, and fill him with the idea that everything didn't have to hurt.

He'd even almost gotten used to how often his and Adam's hands grazed over each other.

But now, they were here, and Wesley was so tired that the cave seemed to go around in circles before his eyes, and Adam had lied down with a gratifying sigh and closed his eyes. His breathing was already slow and peaceful, and Wesley wanted to lie down next to him and sleep, he wanted it so badly, but he couldn't.

Inigo shot Adam an amused look as he pulled his knees up in front of him.

"At least he made it here," he said to Wesley with a glint in his tired eyes.

"I still think we would've done better without him," Fezzik said grumpily and sat down next to him.

Wesley smiled sleepily.

"Thank you for putting up with him."

Inigo nodded and smiled back at him. But his smile faded away quickly, and Wesley sat down in front of him, his legs crossed.

He knew what would come.

"What was he talking about before, Wesley?" Inigo asked seriously and leaned his head against the cave wall behind him. "Did you really kiss?"

Wesley felt all the blood in his body shooting up to his face, and he cleared his throat and fidgeted with the tip of his shoe.

_Come on, _a voice in his head said. _It's your own fault you're out here. And the fact that Adam is with you is your fault, too. _

_You shouldn't be ashamed of him. You owe him that much. _

"Mm," Wesley mumbled. "We did."

He couldn't look at anyone of them.

"Didn't you love someone?" Said Fezzik's dark voice. "A girl?"

"Yes," Wesley said in a low voice. "But she saw us. And Adam…"

He paused before he continued.

"I don't have to defend him. He's small, but… He's tough. He can take care of himself. And I never thought that if I lost Buttercup, the only thing I wouldn't miss would be her innocence, but…"

That was the case. He didn't have to finish the sentence for the others to understand, and he still didn't have the energy to it, because Wesley was so tired, he was so awfully tired, and he didn't want to have this conversation, he wanted to put his arms around Adam, he wanted to embrace that thin little body, defend him even though he didn't need it…

"I just don't know what to do about him," Wesley finished and suppressed a yawn with his hand.

Inigo chuckled.

"I think the only thing you have to ask yourself is if you love him, Wesley."

"I don't know," Wesley replied.

He really didn't know. His heart was still on Buttercup, but… Adam…

He was everything Buttercup wasn't.

He was humor, he was a quick tongue and a high laugh, he was sharp lines, he was small, steady hands running over Wesley's body, he was a sad voice that said he'd been in jail too many times…

Wesley sighed.

And that kiss…

No Buttercup in the world could erase the memory of that.

"I don't know," he repeated. "But you don't have to…"

"We won't tell anyone about this," Inigo cut him off in a firm voice.

Wesley nodded.

"Thank you."

They were quiet for a few seconds.

"I know you don't understand," Wesley said then. "And you never will. _I _never will. But you don't have to understand something to respect it, right?"

And then, he could finally lift his gaze, he could see Inigo and the warm smile that spread across his face and sparkled in his dark eyes.

"No," he said softly. "You don't. Now, go to sleep, Wesley."

And then, he got up, tapped Fezzik's shoulder and beckoned to a further away corner of the cave. Fezzik stood up and followed him there, and Wesley looked after them to see them being engulfed by the dark. Then he moved forward on the floor until he sat next to Adam's still, sleeping body.

"Adam," he said slowly.

Adam didn't move. Wesley laid down next to him and put his arms around his waist, and Adam moaned weakly in his sleep and moved closer to him, fisted his small hands against Wesley's chest, breathed warmly on his face.

_You know how proud he is, _the little voice said. _If you don't wake him up and ask him now, you'll never find out. _

"Adam," Wesley repeated and shook him slightly. "Adam, wake up."

Adam didn't open his eyes, but he furrowed his brows and grunted in displease to show his consciousness.

"Adam," Wesley said again and swept his hand over his cheek. "What was it like to be in prison?"

"We have to do this now?" Adam grumbled, still without opening his eyes, and Wesley grinned.

"Yes."

Adam sighed, but then he started talking, maybe because he hoped to get some sleep afterwards, maybe because he didn't really have any idea about what he was doing.

"They hit me," Adam mumbled. "Whipped me. And it hurt. I don't want them to do that again…"

He said the last sentence in some sort of subconscious desperation that was a sure proof he wasn't fully awake.

"They can't do that to me again…"

"They'll never do that to you again," Wesley said, and he didn't even notice that the tears were streaming down his face until now.

Tears over Adam. And himself.

Tears over Buttercup.

And tears over the fact that no matter how much he'd used to love Buttercup, she'd never mean more to him than Adam, that laid in his arms, half asleep, whimpering, with all his dreadful past, everything he'd gone through just for being himself, written across his face.

"They'll never hurt you again, Adam," he said. "I'll never let them hurt you."

Adam smiled teasingly in his sleep.

"Faggot."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Night, Going To."

Wesley smiled and closed his eyes.

"Good night, Gonna."

**Another chapter… Not that long, but I still need you to review! **


	6. Gone, Baby, Gone

**A/N: YAY! Another chapter! ****No humor, just drama… But as long as Adam and Wesley stay in love, everything works out in the end! **

**6: Gone, Baby, Gone**

_Something is wrong. _

That was the first thought that struck Wesley when he woke up the morning after and felt a stone floor under his hands instead of Adam's waist.

_Something is definitely wrong. Something is so terribly wrong, and I barely want to open my eyes and see what it is._

Sure, Adam could've rolled to the side in his sleep, and now, he was laying just a few inches out of Wesley's reach, he might even have woken up already, but it wasn't like that. It couldn't be like that.

If Adam had been awake, if he was _present, _Wesley would feel it, he was sure of that. Adam wasn't unnoticed, he wasn't, you could _hear _if he was awake, you _felt _that sarcastic, well-meaning warmth that poured out of him…

_Adam isn't here._

_Stop it. Stop it._

_Adam isn't here._

_Shut up. He's here._

_No. Adam isn't here. Adam is gone._

Wesley inhaled deeply. Like to prepare himself. And then he opened his eyes.

Adam was gone.

Wesley sat up and looked around the cave. It was bathing in sunlight, the birds were chirping carefreely outside, Inigo and Fezzik were sitting with their backs against the cave wall and slept soundly, and it should've been fine, it should've been great, but Adam wasn't there, Adam was gone, he was in a place where Wesley couldn't protect him and that he didn't even know where it was.

He was gone.

The knowledge settled down like a heavy block of ice in Wesley's stomach.

Adam was gone.

And with that knowledge, he could also see all those other awful details in the cave.

Like pieces of broken nails that had been dragged over the ground.

_Someone has dragged him out of here and he's tried to fight back…_

Like long streaks of blood going out from the cave.

_He buried his nails in the ground, and someone bigger, someone stronger still dragged him out…_

Wesley stumbled to his feet. His legs felt as useful as two twigs right now, but he still got up.

_Adam…_

Adam was gone.

Wesley knew that he should at least wake Inigo and Fezzik up and tell them where he went, sine they'd think that both him and Adam had been kidnapped, but he wasn't thinking. He didn't have the time.

He had to save Adam. That thought had pushed aside everything that was sensible, everything that had existed until then.

_Have to save Adam._

So he stumbled out of the cave. And he started running the same way he'd been walking the day before.

But without Adam this time.

It wasn't hard to see where the supposed guards had plunged away. A big passage of snapped branches, stomped plants and torn-up dirt was opened up before him, and he ran, Wesley ran, he knew where he had to go, and he'd get there quickly, he'd get there so quickly that his breath started wheezing, the sweat poured down his face, strings of mucus were hanging from his lips.

_Adam… Oh, god, Adam…_

xxxxxxxxxxx

"Where is he?!"

Adam rolled his lips together to keep from whimpering when the guard's steel-clad fist hit his face. Again.

_Won't. Won't make a fucking sound._

The blood was pouring from his nose, pouring from the deep gashes in his face, but he wouldn't make a fucking sound.

Wouldn't let them win.

No way in hell I'll let those bastards win.

"Your worthless little _shit," _the guard hissed and grabbed Adam's collar harshly. "How much energy do I have to spend on you before you talk?"

Adam didn't whimper. He didn't even sob, even though stubborn little tears of pain ran from his eyes and mingled with the blood. He even managed to laugh, and when he saw the guard's eyes flame with rage, he was filled with mean satisfaction and a smug thought:

_Fuck, it works in England, too._

"Allow me to remind you that if you're too lazy to kick my ass even more, you can just leave me here. I'll bare with you this time, I promise."

The guard spun his collar even deeper into his fists, and Adam felt, with a panic he hopes wasn't visible, how his airways were closed up.

"I don't care about _you, _Faulkner," he hissed, with his face so close to Adam that he felt his breath against his face with every word he said. "Prince Humperdinck wanted Wesley, not you, so _tell me were he is!"_

Adam scoffed. It sounded more rattling than usual, and he felt blood clog up his throat along with the guard's hands, but he still didn't sob.

"Like hell I will," he said and even managed to grin with his bloodstained teeth. "It's not my fault you only found one of us. That just means _you're _incompetent. And if you're incompetent, and then lash out at me, it doesn't mean you're mad at me, it just means your daddies didn't hug you when you were kids. What do you think doctor Phil would say about this?"

The guard grunted in frustration and pushed him up a tree. Adam clenched his teeth together when he felt the wood against his broken ribs, but he still didn't make a sound.

"I know you know where he is, Faulkner," the guard hissed, even closer now. "Our contacts in America have told us what you are, so I know you wouldn't leave him. _Tell me where he is. _And don't force me to get mad."

Adam coughed. The blood that had been blocking his throat gushed out of his mouth and down on the ground below him.

"How do you know I didn't leave him?" He asked and lifted a hand to wipe his mouth. "Your buddy in America surely told you that I hate English guys? I could easily have beaten him down and dumped him somewhere in this fucking forest."

Before the guard managed to interrupt, or even strike him again, he kept going, he brought up a subject he knew could disgust him so much that he actually could get him go. It had worked with one of the cops in America, it could work here, too.

"Although," Adam said and coughed again, "he was hot. You don't leave such a good kisser in the woods just like that. You're pretty hot, too, by the way. And you seem so awfully cautious about staying close to me, so…"

He was cut off by the guard's merciless fists in his face, his stomach, his foot against his chest until he fell out of his hands again and hit the ground with a _bang! _and new blood found a way up his throat, up his nose and stained his clothes and the grass beneath him, and Adam had to roll up into a ball to keep from crying out in pain.

Because suddenly, it felt like every bone in his body was on fire. The blood that ran from his nose and his mouth was acid that burned him up, ate away at him inside and out, burned away his ears so that it was a miracle that he heard what the guard told his colleges.

"He's bloody useless. Bring him back to the dungeon, so that prince Humperdinck can decide what to do with him later."

In a half-conscious condition, Adam felt strong hands grab his arms, felt himself being dragged away and hit rocks that shattered even more of his ribs.

_Wesley… _He thought before his entire brain was filled with blood and drowsiness enveloped him. _Hurry… _

**Adam may be the funny element in this fic, but he's still my angst-bitch! Anyway, review and brighten my day! **


	7. Back Where We Started From

**A/N: Eeesh. Long update, and not ****the greatest chapter out there, but… I felt guilty about leaving you guys hanging. After all, our beloved Adam was in a tricky spot where I left him, so… Read, and see how he holds up! Also, seems to like to scew up the documents, so if something looks weird, I compleyely blame them. I'm so evil. :)  
**

**7: Back Where We Started From **

Wesley had to stop and lean against a tree. His heart beat furiously, he could hear the dull pounding in his hears, his throat burned, his head spun.

_Adam…_

He couldn't stop. He knew that. Every second he stood still, panting, sweaty and his hand pressed against his chest, was a second where Adam was hurt, a valuable second where the chance to save him faded away, bit by bit.

_You didn't worry this much about Buttercup, _a dry little voice in his head said.

Wesley pretended not to hear it. He didn't have _time _to hear it and not the energy to run, and in a way, that was even worse than the lack of time.

He really didn't have the energy.

And now, the lack of strength wasn't still and peaceful, like it had been when he'd been too tired to be with anyone but Adam. No.

Now, his tiredness was a big, clawing despair, a weight on his shoulders that forced him down to his knees, a big monster that could crush him with its mere fist.

_Adam…_

An image of Adam in his head.

_Bloody, broken, his mouth, that had been smiling so nicely, crushed, with bleeding lips, his teeth are red, some of them are missing…_

Wesley whimpered. It hurt, his heart ached even more at this vision, but he couldn't get up, his knees had buckled and refused to straighten up again.

_The guards kick him in the stomach, and he's so skinny, so skinny, he convulses and coughs when a rib is broken…_

Wesley put a hand over his mouth. Stubborn little tears rose in his eyes, and he managed to make his hands move over the dirty ground in an attempt to crawl, but he couldn't stand, he couldn't walk.

_He coughs, he coughs, he coughs blood…_

Maybe it was the picture of Adam in his head, maybe it was the fact that he didn't even know how long he'd been running with all the stamina he had, but Wesley got up on all fours and hiccupped for a few seconds before his stomach was wringed like a dishcloth and he vomited over the grass-clad ground, even though he hadn't eaten in two days.

_Okay… It's okay now… It's okay…_

Wesley rolled over to his back and pulled his hand over his mouth. Dots danced over his eyes, teasing, electrifying little things in yellow and white.

He wouldn't let Adam die.

He wouldn't die himself.

But he couldn't stand.

He could barely breath.

_You're not wounded._

The voice in his head, the dry, teasing voice that had echoed in his head during all the time he'd spent on the sea, had been replaced with a different one.

A stronger one. Lighter. Kinder.

With an American accent.

Adam's voice.

_You'll be fine. You can stand up if you want to. Fuck, man, you're gonna let those guards get me? Am I not a better kisser than that?_

Wesley smiled thinly. Even the there was nothing to smile at. At all.

_Yes. Yes, you are. But I don't know where I am._

_Look up, you idiot. Just like you English guys to be stupid._

_Shut up. _

But Wesley rolled over to his stomach again. And then he heaved himself up on his hands, lifted the head that felt like a stone. And looked up.

And there it was.

Surrounded by brick walls. Just like he left it. The prison.

Wesley smiled, almost insanely, and found, from some place in his body, the strength to heave himself up some more and then get to his feet.

There were no guards in sight. Not even the one that had stood outside the prison door when he and Adam had been locked up. They were probably on Buttercup's wedding, circling the entrances so that he wouldn't get in, but that thought only brushed over Wesley's mind as he tattered up to the prison door. Because Adam was behind that door, Adam was there and spread his sarcastic warmth, and Wesley felt it, so nothing, no thought about anyone he'd ever loved up until then could slow down his steps now.

When he got up to the door, he tried the handle. God, it wasn't even locked. What did these guards think about Adam? That he'd stay here in their dungeon, simply because he liked to lie on his back and do nothing?

_If you put it like that, it does sound pretty believable, _the dry voice said, and Wesley had to agree with it on that point.

He opened the door. A gate of light fell down on the place where he'd been just a day ago, and yet felt so far away.

For a moment, he thought he'd been wrong. That the dungeon was empty. That Adam was in another place, far away, defenseless, where Wesley couldn't help him.

But then he saw those scraped feet, bathing in light.

_Adam…_

"Adam?"

A weak gasp was heard from the darkness. Wesley walked down the stairs on wobbly knees.

_He's in pain. Everything you imagined is true._

_I know._

"Adam?"

_You know it's him, you idiot._

The small feet moved. Wesley put his hand back over his mouth and slowly walked up to them, to the point where the light ended and the rest of Adam's body was devoured by darkness.

"Adam, can you hear me?"

He went down to his knees and walked forward until his hand met a stonewall, cold and damp. And he head a weak moan to his left.

"Adam?"

"What the hell took you so long?" Adam's displeased voice grumbled, with that amazing, amazing American accent shining through every word, and Wesley made a sound that could either be a laugh or a sob.

"Adam… God…"

Adam chuckled, even though it sounded throatier than usual, and Wesley reached out a trembling hand until it felt warm, living skin, and then a shoulder, and then he found the rest of Adam, and then he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around him. Adam grunted, his body was tensed and he pushed Wesley back.

"No hugs," he said and swept his hand over Wesley's cheek awkwardly. "I know you mean well, but it just feels like someone jams a fire poker into my ribs."

Wesley smiled weakly, even though those words put a shadow over the face that he knew Adam couldn't see anyway.

"We'll take care of that later. Once we get out of here. Come on, we have to leave before the guards find us…"

Adam cut him off with a cackling laugh, that eventually faded into coughing, rattling and loud, which would've scared Wesley if he hadn't so much to worry about already.

"Wesley, you idiot," Adam said almost lovingly once he'd calmed down. "Think of the surroundings! Haven't you seen 'Batman Begins'?"

"What?"

"Nothing. Either way, I'm chained up in my hands, which you don't seem to notice at the sight of my beautiful face."

"I can't see your face. _But," _Wesley said, since he'd actually suspected this, but still had, in a brief moment of tranquil happiness, thought that it actually could be this easy. "I actually have something that I think can set you free."

"Who-hoo!" Adam said sarcastically, and a rattling from the chains implied that he raised his hand in some sort of half-hearted victory gesture. "That might be the first smart thing you've ever done. But Wesley, honey, I highly doubt that you can pick a lock."

Wesley arched his brow and picked up the things he'd collected along the way out of his pocket.

"Don't underestimate me, young man."

He couldn't tell, but he knew Adam grinned.

Wesley really did know how to pick a lock. Awfully practical when you're a pirate, sure, but he still felt guilty those times when he, with way too quick, practiced fingers put the objects he now had in front of himself together, since that little voice always mumbled into his ear then: _Yes, you do it for honorable reasons now, but do you remember that chest you had to break open, when you'd knocked a door to a house in and beaten down a pregnant woman, then you picked a lock, just like this, and you felt nothing then, nothing at all. _

Wesley shook his head violently and moved into the light to see what he was doing.

This wasn't like that.

He did it for someone he cared about this time.

The only thing he really had was a twig, a thorn and a lump of resin, but it didn't matter. It _would _work, because it had before and it would now, too, simply because there was no other way.

He rolled the resin between his fingers until it got soft. Then he put it on the edge of the twig and pressed the thorn into it, so that it looked like a carving needle. He heard Adam stretch his neck to see what he was doing.

"What are you up to?" He asked, but Wesley ignored him. Instead, he blew on the resin for it to get hard, and then held the picklock into the light to behold his work.

It got good.

And it _would _work.

Adam didn't seem to agree. Wesley could almost hear him roll his eyes when he saw what he'd accomplished.

"You're going to get me out of these things with _that?" _He said scornfully. "It looks like a tiny dildo!"

Wesley ignored him and crawled up to Adam again and searched for the handcuffs over his wrists. When he found them, he fumbled with the picklock for a while before he found the lock. When it was inside, and he wriggled the picklock to make the lock move, he still sent Adam a sharp glance through the darkness.

"I don't know what a dildo is," he said softly and was impressed over how quickly he got the first lock to open up, "but I'm sure this is ideal to stab annoying Americans with."

Adam laughed and then sighed gratefully as the first cuff fell from his wrist.

"See?" Wesley said exultantly and leaned over him to work on the second lock.

He felt Adam shake his head next to his cheek.

"Impressive, indeed," he said approvingly, and his breath on Wesley's face made him involuntarily stiff in his fingers, and he had to use all the mental force he had to make them move until he heard that wonderful, and Adam's relieved moan when he finally could take his other hand down from the wall, lift both his arms and put them around Wesley, press himself against his chest.

Wesley smiled uncertainly and hugged Adam back, even though those tiny tears rose in his eyes again, but they didn't really matter.

It didn't matter that tears of old pain ran down his cheeks, or that the guards could see them anytime now, or that Adam couldn't even sit up straight, and leaned his ruffled hair against the place where Wesley's heart bet furiously out of pure worrying.

Things were okay now. They _had _to be okay now.

"Thank you," Adam choked out and clutched to his shirt. "Thank you, Wesley…"

"Adam, calm down…"

Adam's shoulders were shaking, his grip on Wesley's shirt got harder, stifled sounds forced themselves over his lips.

Adam was crying. And Wesley didn't know how to handle him then.

"I'm sorry, Wesley," Adam suddenly whimpered.

Wesley grabbed his arms and pulled him into the light, maybe in a vein hope that he wouldn't see any big damages on him, maybe just because he wanted to see the face he'd missed so much.

"I'm sorry," Adam kept slurring, and now, his face was in the sun, pale with red stains. "I'm sorry… That I couldn't hold those guys back… I'm sorry…"

Now, his entire body was lightened up.

And Wesley immediately wished that he'd gotten there sooner. Ran faster.

If he had, it might've not been too late when he got there.

Because Adam wasn't just wounded. He was half-dead.

His face had no color. His dark hair was sticking together by blood that poured, was smeared from a wound in his forehead.

When Wesley held his arms, he suddenly felt the broken bones slipping around under his fingers, squeaking against each other, like a terrible symphony, whispering of what suffering Adam had gone through and that he might have gotten out of if Wesley only had been there.

Adam's shirt was torn. Dark red, dried blood that caked his chest shone through the ripped fabric, and Wesley felt sick, he wanted to vomit again and he wanted to cry, he wanted to help Adam, even though his eyes already were closed and his breathing barely audible.

After that, everything happened so quickly. Wesley had just pressed Adam's head back into his chest and allowed the tears to go from a silent dribbling into a violent gush, and then, feet walked around outside, Inigo's voice echoed against the trees.

"He should be here. All the traces lead here, and Adam…"

Wesley swallowed. Looked at Adam's blood on his shirt, on his own shirt, on the red, sticky hay and realized that he couldn't lose another second.

"_He's in here!" _He screamed, even though his voice cracked by the tears, even though the blood on his clothes gathered up into one single bomb in his voice that exploded. _"Come here, help me, he's n here!"_

_You won't die down here, Adam. _

**Yeah, I was kind of half-asleep when I wrote this… But still! REVIEW! **


	8. Sewing Up The Wounds

**A/N: Okay, ****okay… I know some of you really loved this story… But apparently, all fanfics must come to an end… Sucks, doesn't it? So I'm going to have to ask you to enjoy the last chapter of my little crossover! **

**8: Sewing Up The Wounds**

Wesley was surprised that so much screaming could fit into such a small person.

He couldn't say he didn't understand him. As he'd already established, Adam looked miserable, the fact that he'd made it from the dungeon back to the cave was a miracle, since his ribs weren't just broken, like Wesley had thought, but _pulverized, _and the blood poured from his nose, even out of his mouth.

But still. Adam was half his size. By this, his vocal cords should be half the size of his, so he should be able to scream half as loud as Wesley. It was basic physic.

Adam didn't seem to agree, though.

He appeared to be determined to scream until the trees outside the cave came down. Or at least until Inigo, that sewed his wounds shut, and Wesley, who held his hand, both got deaf.

"OW, OW, OW, OW!" Adam screamed and punched Inigo's arm desperately as he made another stitch on the cut in his forehead. "What the _hell!" _

"You don't have to scream, Adam," Wesley said tiredly and tried to loosen the grip Adam had on his hand. "It doesn't make anything better."

"Shut up," Adam hissed and squeezed his hand even harder, as if to show him that there was no way he'd let go of him now. "For Christ's _sake! _Did I _do _something to you?"

Inigo sent him an annoyed look, bit the thread off and drew his tanned finger over the stitches in Adam's forehead. He looked pretty pleased.

"You've done quite many things to me," he said calmly, grabbed Adam's chin and turned his head to see if he had any more wounds in his face, "but that doesn't matter."

Adam whimpered when Inigo found a deep gash, that seemed to be from a spear, in his shoulder, and put his needle to it. Wesley squeezed his eyes shut when that scream returned, and Inigo slowly shook his head and took a firm hold on Adam's arm to keep him from wriggle it away.

"Idiotic boy," he growled, but Wesley could only almost hear him over Adam's yelling. "Why would you turn homosexual? And why would you even _come _to England if you hate it so much?"

Adam gasped when Inigo secured the first stitch.

"Right now, I ask myself the same question," he choked out and bit his bottom lip. "But I promise, I'll stop messing with your accent, I'll start making out with girls and I'll pray every night if you _take the fucking needle away!" _

Inigo smiled weakly and wiped some blood away from the needle with his finger.

"Then, your injuries will be infected," he said calmly, seemingly discarded of Adam's muffled whimpers. "That would be very mean to you."

Adam muttered something and clenched his teeth as the needle was buried in his shoulder again.

"I can't do much about the broken bones," Inigo said, and he appeared to be talking more to Wesley than to Adam. "I'm good at this, but I'm not a wizard. The ribs will heal however they please, but I think I can splint the arms and the fingers."

Adam sighed dejectedly, and Inigo looked at him like was an idiot.

"_Splint," _he clarified. "I'll _wrap_ them up, not sew them up. Do you understand?"

It was possible that the touch of degradation that sneaked into his voice was subconscious, but either way, it was there, and it made Adam look at him with a shell of spite over the pain in his eyes.

"It's not my fault I don't get your accent," he spluttered. "Goona."

Inigo turned his attention back to the cut in his shoulder.

Wesley swore that he saw the same warm irritation he felt for Adam himself smolder in his gaze.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Once again, Adam was half asleep, with fresh scars all over his thin little body and his arms in splinters. But Wesley wouldn't keep him awake this time.

Soon, Adam would be asleep. And Wesley would stay up and watch him.

Always.

He'd never get rid of him now.

"Adam?"

"Mm?" Adam mumbled, his voice was laced with the sleep that would soon be over him, but he still looked up at Wesley, from the place where his head laid on his chest.

Wesley slowly raked his hand through his hair.

It felt just like he'd imagined when he saw him in the light for the first time.

"Why didn't you tell me you were wounded?" Wesley asked in a soft voice and moved his hand down to his cheek. "In the dungeon? Why didn't you tell me they'd hit you?"

Adam chuckled.

"Your little heart wouldn't be able to handle such stress."

Wesley smiled sadly and kept moving his hand down, against his neck.

"Adam, seriously."

"No, I _am _serious," Adam said and waved his hand. "You were a fucking nervous wreck when you got there already, and I don't think it would've gotten better if you knew that those damn homophobes had beaten the crap out of me."

Wesley moved his hand back up to his hair.

Right then, his life was still pain. Old pain.

But there was no place he'd rather be.

There was no person he'd rather have with him, with a head on his chest and a splinted arm around his waist.

Because then, he didn't have to defend anyone.

Buttercup needed protection. All the time. And that was what Wesley had loved about her.

And what he loved about Adam was that he _wasn't _like that. He didn't know why. But that's how it was.

What he loved about Adam was that he gave him the time to deal with his own pain. His own wounds that no Inigo in the world can sew shut.

Adam couldn't, either.

But he was damn close to doing it.

"Adam?" Wesley mumbled into Adam's hair.

"What's the matter now?" Adam muttered, annoyed.

Obviously, he was almost sleeping.

"I love you."

Adam scoffed.

"Nerd."

"Oh, please…"

"Please? Is that the best insult you can think of? English people are sissies."

"American people are annoying."

"But sexy?" Adam said with a sleepily smile and looked up at him.

Wesley bent down and planted a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Yes, little boy, you're awfully sexy. I don't know what that means, but I'm sure you are."

Adam laughed.

"At least you know when to agree. Going To."

Wesley didn't have the energy to talk back.

Adam could have the upper hand. Now and forever.

**YAY! Another completed Adam/Lawrence-fic to my collection! Those of you that's put up with Adam's racist comments all the way, (please forgive me, England…) and reviewed, I love the hell out of you all. See ya!**


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